


Prank wars and crushes

by FoundHerselfInWonderland13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dean is crushing hard, Destiel - Freeform, Gabriel (Supernatural) is a Little Shit, Happy Ending, M/M, Prank Wars, Sabriel - Freeform, This was only suposed to be short, everyone is human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoundHerselfInWonderland13/pseuds/FoundHerselfInWonderland13
Summary: Dean and Gabriel have been involved in a major prank war since childhood. This year, Dean may or may not be off his game, but no matter what anyone says, it's not because of his crush on stunning history major, Castiel.  Anyone who thinks otherwise is an idiot. As if he didn't have enough to contend with, Gabriel's interest in his brother is seriously starting to piss him off.Featuring a sopping wet Cas, crushing hard Dean, ridiculous pranks and a healthy dose of competition.





	Prank wars and crushes

It started out, as most things did in Dean Winchester’s life, as a dare. A harmless prank, a practical joke. What could he say? He liked making people laugh, it made him happy. Sam had been taunting him mercilessly all week about his glaringly obvious crush on that strange guy who lived in his dorm. Castiel Novak. With his tousled dark hair, semi-permanent scruff that appeared to adhere to no discernible schedule, and his bright blue eyes, Castiel was exactly Dean’s type. That type being stunningly gorgeous, intelligent, warm-hearted and incredibly sexy. The vibrant tattoos that covered at least half of his lightly defined body, multiple piercings (including a tongue bar that did magical, twisty things to Dean's insides) and deep, gravelly voice that buckled his knees were merely happy bonuses. And as luck would have it, he was bisexual too. Not that it mattered a jot, as Dean forcibly reminded himself on an almost daily basis. The crazy hot in a weird, alternative, sort of nerdy way, history major was so far out of his league it was intimidatingly laughable. The freaking apocalypse would come and strike them all down before Castiel so much as glanced in his direction. 

“I have not become boring!” Dean banged his fist down on the table. His amused younger brother quietly sipped on his fruit infused water, merrily ignoring his childish outburst in favour of his own lunch. 

Sam smiled pleasantly, the corners of his lips curving around the lip of his plastic bottle. Truthfully, he was enjoying Dean’s ridiculously immature tantrum enormously. “That’s not what I said,” he spoke in a calm, low voice. “If you were paying attention and not staring at the poor guy`s ass from across the room, you would have known that. What I said was, ‘You have become boring and incredibly distracted since you met him’, that’s all,” he finished smugly, placing the water bottle back down on his tray of leafy green rabbit food. 

What an asshole, Dean thought. If Sam wasn’t his baby brother, he`d probably hate him half the time. Damn family values and shit, making him love him too much to get really pissed off with him, even when he definitely deserved it. Sam smirked at him and raised one eyebrow, challenging him to say something, but confident he wouldn’t. Like now, for instance. 

To his right, Charlie agreed easily. “Like it or not, Sam is right, you know. And it’s not just us who have noticed it.” She paused to unwrap her banana chocolate chip muffin, her eyes slipping closed in order to fully savour the first bite. “Gabriel’s been running his mouth again, saying you’ve been off your game lately. You’d better hope he doesn’t put two and two together and figure out it all adds up to dreamy nerd boy. Ew,” she wrinkled her nose up in distaste and placed her muffin back down. “I can’t even joke about that. Super gross. The dream boy thing, not my muffin. This muffin is gooood.” She groaned appreciatively and dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin. “So good.”

Sam rolled his eyes, masking a chuckle. “Deep breaths, Charlie,” he said, rubbing her hand tenderly, as though she was a child that required calming down after a nightmare. “And what do you mean again? When isn’t that loudmouth spouting off and blowing his own horn?”

“He’s like the thing that wouldn’t shut up.”  
Sam nodded in a rare display of agreement with his brother. “He thinks he’s so smart, so funny, so cool. Well, I've got news for him, I’ve seen wet paper towels with a better sense of humour.”

Charlie let her honorary brothers rant on for a few moments, happy to spend few rare moments of peace alone with her girlfriend's baking. Any other day and Dean would be itching to get his hands all over her lunch. Homemade muffins, cookies, a not so small sliver of pie, she couldn't blame him. Dorothy was one talented baker. Well, not today, Winchester! You snooze, you lose! The subject of their ranting, a chatterbox named Gabriel Shurley, was twenty-three years old and almost finished with his culinary arts studies, though he had been majoring in dares and practical jokes since childhood. He and Dean had a long-standing rivalry because of this, and had competed against each other for the coveted honour of head trickster ever since middle school. It had just been sheer dumb luck, or someone upstairs with a stupendous sense of humour that they had both ended up studying at the same university. 

“I can’t believe he and your dream boy are related.”

“Yeah-wait, what?” Dean was flabbergasted, his mouth gaping open rather unattractively. 

“Cousins, apparently. Cas told me the other day. I was so shocked, I think my mouth was hanging open and everything,” Sam chuckled. “Oh man, he must have thought I was a right idiot.” 

“So it’s, ‘Cas’ now, since when? How did you even get talking to him?” He may have sounded disinterested to a passing stranger, but his eyes gave it away. They were pinched, worried. His fingers tapped irritatingly across the table until Charlie, unable to take any more of the infernal pattering, pushed them back into his lap. Deflated a little, he leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out under the table casually. The picture of perfect nonchalance, to anyone who didn’t know him as well as his loved ones did. 

“Yeah,” Sam said sarcastically, “You don’t like Cas.”

“I don’t!” He insisted. “I mean, sure he’s a nice guy and all, but that’s it. No romantic feelings whatsoever.” 

Sam nodded, then broke out into an enthusiastic grin. “Oh, hey, Castiel!” He waved. “What are you doing over here?” 

Dean whipped his head around so fast he cricked his neck. Ouch. Seeing the empty space behind them, he glared at his brother. Sam just laughed. “You're a dick,” he said, wincing as he gingerly poked at his sore neck. It really was a damn good thing Sammy was family. 

He shrugged, unaffected by the childish name calling. “Seriously, you live in the same apartment building as him. What do you do when you bump into him in the stairwell or in the kitchen or whatever?”

“Curl up into a ball and die?” Charlie offered oh so helpfully. “Do your best impression of a tomato?”  


Dean scowled, and flipped them both off. He might be stuck with Sam, but he seriously needed to pick his friends more wisely next time.  


Sam's phone buzzed, effectively pressing pause on the unwelcome conversation. Dean wanted to full on swap saliva with whoever created the damn thing, taking back every bad thing he had ever said about technology. Sam picked it up, his face burning crimson as he hurled it back into the bottom of his bag. How interesting.  


Dean perked up. “Who’s that? Jess?”  


Sam shook his head stiffly. “No.”  


Charlie butted in, “it’s Gabriel.” Dean wasn’t impressed by her tone, light and airy, clearly unconcerned about jackass number one's harassment of his innocent younger brother.  


"What do you mean, ‘It’s Gabriel?’” he turned on Sam. “Why’s he texting you?” Before back to Charlie. “And how do you know about this crap and not me?”  


She shrugged. “Because we spent all last weekend eating ice cream together and talking about their undying love for each other.” She took another bite of her muffin, chasing it down with a long swig of cherry cola. “They're planning on a June wedding. Fancy dress if Gabriel gets his way.”  


Both of the boys looked about ready to pop a blood vessel. Sam's face was scarlet, his jaw tightly clenched as he prepared to be swallowed whole by the Earth, or the force of his brother’s anger. Dean's eyes were bugging so far out of his head Charlie was mentally preparing herself for having one land in her lap.

“You what?!”  


She rolled her eyes with an amused smile. “Relax, both of you. Dean, I was being a sarcastic ass, and Sam,” she said, looking him dead in the eye, “I saw the name come up. Chill.”  


Both breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the tension left their bodies.  


“Anyway, back to you and Cas...”  


Dean growled and collapsed his head in his hands. Across the hall, a scruffy haired, blue eyed student, dressed in a charcoal jeans and a leather jacket caught his eye.  


“What’s up with you, brother?” Another of the Winchester’s friends, Benny, asked in his usual drawl. He took the only spare seat across the table from the brothers. “Canteen all outta pie?” His eyes fell on Dean, or more specifically, at the table he was fixated on across the canteen, where a dark head sat with a book in one hand and a fork in the other. “Ah,” he nodded, understanding dawning on him. “This about your little crush again? Maybe it’s time to bite the bullet, you never know.”  


Doing his best to ignore him, Dean picked at his lunch, eventually throwing down his burger in annoyance. “There’s nothing up with me! He,” Dean’s tone was accusatory as he jabbed a finger in Sam`s direction, “is being a bitch, as per usual.” His eyes found his brother, still sipping innocently away on his drink, with his stupid puppy dog eyes, chomping on his fucking leafy green salad, and acting like butter wouldn’t melt. Well Dean knew better. “Don’t encourage him.”  


“Dean was worried Sam is either one, going to date his worst enemy, or two, steal his dream boy because he called him by a cute little nickname,” Charlie explained, the small crumbs of delicious, chocolatey goodness around her lips all that remained of her muffin.  


Dean huffed, “I am not! I just asked a simple fucking question.” He folded his arms across his chest angrily. “And Sam would never, he’s way to good for that dick and he knows it.”  
Sam stayed unusually quiet, pushing his salad around on his plate without eating it. Thankfully, Dean was too worked up to notice. Perhaps there was someone up there watching out for him after all.  


Charlie flicked her balled up wrapper at Dean’s head. To his dismay, it catapulted off the end of his nose, and landed in his coffee with a great big plop. “Oh great, just fucking great.” He pushed the spoiled cup to the edge of the table and into the bin and hastily begun to wipe up the droplets of lukewarm coffee that had spilled as a result of Charlie’s uncalled for muffin wrapper assault. At least there was no way his day could get worse than this.  


“Sorry!” Charlie blurted out, passing him more tissues from her purse. “But that’s what whiny, little, lying babies who can’t own up to their true feelings get. Ruined coffee.” Childishly, the redhead stuck her tongue out at him. He copied her, dumping the sodden tissues alongside his poor, innocent coffee.  


“What the hell has gotten into you guys today?” Benny asked, bemused, an uncertain tilt to the curl of his mouth.  


“It’s like I said-"  


“Sam is apparently in love with that asshat Gabriel, and he is also on a nickname basis with Castiel, oh I’m sorry, Cas, and he forgot to tell me.” Dean interrupted Charlie, flicking a spare napkin angrily.  


“If you would just let me get a damn word in edgewise,” Sam snapped. “I don’t love Gabriel, not that it’s any of your business, and I met Cas in the library last Saturday. He was cramming for a test and I was working on a paper. We got to talking, apparently he almost went down the legal route, because of his parents, but he went with history instead.” He paused for a moment, face scrunched up as though he was deliberating over something important. Dean could tell the second he made his mind up. “He asked about you, you know. If you were still seeing Lisa, if you liked the movies. That sort of thing.” His knowing smile was infuriating.  


Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Yeah, right. Sure he did, and that thing that just whipped past your ear was a purple flying pig,” he said with yet another exaggerated roll of the eyes as he bit into his burger, at the same time as Charlie asked, a horrified look colouring her face, “ who doesn’t like the movies?”  


Benny shrugged. “Beats me.”  


“I’m telling the truth, Dean." Sam’s tone was insistent, bordering on irritatingly whiny if you asked Dean. He was far from being a child anymore, he’d been taller than him since he was fourteen, there was no way on Earth he should still be allowed to utilise his famous puppy dog eyes or whiny little voice with such proficiency. “Cas is interested in you.”  


Dean pulled a face. “Yeah, right, whatever. Geek. You would be in the library on a Saturday. Don’t you have a life? Can’t you rent one at the very least?” Inwardly, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and returned his attention to his now unappetizing, cold burger and fries. Regretfully, it looked as though his lunch would soon be joining the discarded coffee in the bin. He certainly didn’t believe the crap Sam was trying to sell him, but at least he wasn't going to have to watch in horror as a relationship blossomed between his younger brother and his not crush. Now if only he could be certain that Charlie’s digs about Gabriel were merely jokes, he could end this disappointing lunch on a slightly happier note.  


Benny reached out across the table and nudged at Dean’s shoulder. Tactfully, he attempted to move the subject away from Castiel. “Did you hear Gabriel is planning on crowning himself trickster Prince this year? He’s saying that you’ve lost your touch.”  


“Yeah,” Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Charlie was on about that dick earlier. Put me right off my food,” he said as he pushed the half empty tray over to the bin, knocking his brother’s backpack and sending a handful of his precious textbooks to the floor with an immensely satisfying thud.  


Sam scowled. “Jerk.”  


He threw his head back and laughed once, a loud, hearty sound. A few other students from neighbouring tables glanced over to see what had happened, including a certain blue eyed history major, noticed by everyone bar Dean. Typical. “Bitch.”  


Their interest quickly waned, transferring to the impish young man who had just flounced into the room. He wore a mischievous grin that suited him far too well and, oddly, a pair of fluffy white angel wings that didn’t. God only knows what that was about. Gabriel strutted across the canteen, dodging in and out of the crowds of hungry students with ease. Some stopped to bend his ear, while others quickly turned on their heels to avoid his attention. As he passed Castiel`s table on his way to the front of the queue, he ruffled that unruly mop of dark hair, bending to whisper something in his ear. He pointed somewhere across the room with a lazy sweep of the hand, before moving on with an unsettling bounce to his step. Grumbling away to himself, Castiel turned to face the direction his cousin had pointed in. Much to Dean`s frantic heart`s dismay, the other man`s eyes caught his for a moment, before he left to dump his empty tray.  


“How’s is going, Deano?”  


Great. His day could get worse, apparently. All he needed was for his father's ghost to show up to yell at him and this day would be well in the running for the worst ever.  


“Sam, looking gorgeous as ever, baby!” He winked. He actually winked, like some creepy, old perv, which, wasn't a bad description for him, Dean reckoned. Sam averted his eyes, suddenly intrigued by a miniscule crack in the centre of one of the manky tiles on the floor.  


“What do you want, Gabriel?” Dean barked, sitting up in his seat and narrowing his eyes suspiciously in his direction.  


“Warm welcome,” he commented chirpily, hopping up on to the table and resting his head upon one of his elbows, completely at ease despite Dean's rather aggressive hello. He swung his denim clad legs merrily above the tiled floor. “I just came to see if you were still interested in our little competition or not.” He feigned a look of concern. “It’s just that you’ve been so off your game lately. I wonder,” the edges of his lips curved upwards into a sly grin, making sure to catch Dean's eye as he said, “what could possibly have the great Dean Winchester so distracted?” His eyes flickered over to the empty table his cousin had just vacated. “Care to share with the group?” He leaned in, staring up at him smugly. “Or should I take a guess?”  


Without thinking about the consequences, Dean shoved Gabriel hard, knocking him from his makeshift throne atop the rickety lunch table. He landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, his rear absorbing the worst of the impact. Gone was the humour in his eyes, now lit from within by his anger. It was a terrifying sight. The others sat there frozen, until Sam's sweet nature snapped him back into action.  


“He didn’t mean it,” he attempted an apology on his brother's behalf, throwing Dean a scathing look. “Here.” He reached out a hand with a tentative smile. “Let me help you up.”  


Gabriel beamed up at him, anger momentarily forgotten. “My hero.” His tone was only slightly tainted with sarcasm as he clung to Sam's larger hand stubbornly. Dean watched on in horror as Sam’s cheeks burned pink, even as he rolled his eyes and prised his hand away.  


“Leave off, you idiot,” he said, unable to mask the affection in his voice.  


“Dean,” Charlie said in her harshest of voices, the one usually reserved for chewing out assholes dumb enough to try and convince her that all she needed in life was a good dick. “Apologise, now. This is stupid.”  


“Yeah, alright, mom. Look, I’m sorry, alright? Didn’t mean it.”  


Dean’s quickly huffed out, lacklustre apology appeared enough to placate Gabriel, but judging by Sam's bitch face and Charlie’s venomous expression, he hadn’t heard the last of it from them. Joy.  


“Anywhoo, as I was saying.” He waved his hand. “That little game of ours, let’s raise the stakes, shall we? I dare you to come up with the best prank ever,” he paused, dramatic as ever, “you have one week.”  


Dean raised one eyebrow. “Or else?” He spoke through gritted teeth.  


He grinned nastily, setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end. “Or else I tell Cassie about your little situation,” he said, glancing down at Dean’s lap with a sneer. “You know,” he continued, in case he hadn’t been as obvious as possible with his leering, “your little feelings of the non platonic nature.”  


“Fine, but when I win, you leave my brother alone. No more weird comments, no more flirting, no more texts. Nothing.”  


“That’s not your decision to make, Dean.” Sam didn’t raise his voice, he rarely did, he was too level headed to be controlled by his emotions in the same way his brother was, but he was clearly pissed.  


Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise, but to his credit, he otherwise hid it well. “You heard the man, pick again.”  


Dean growled. “I’m going to beat your smug little ass, Gabriel. Just wait.”  


He laughed, throwing his head back, as though he couldn’t picture anything more amusing. “Can’t wait. Catch you next time,” he bade them goodbye, wagging his fingers in some cheeky sort of wave in Sam's direction. He turned away, lowering his head. “Say hi to my dear, sweet baby cousin for me!” he called back over his shoulder.  


It was official, Dean really hated that guy.  


“What I want to know,” Benny said, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder to calm him, “is how in the hell he manages to pull all that crap he does without getting called out on it.”  


“Yeah, I wouldn’t have pegged Singer for the type who just ignored troublemakers like him,” Sam said. Bobby Singer, Dean of the school was a gruff, older man who reminded Dean a lot of his father, only kinder. He was a good man, he treated everyone well until they gave him reason not to, and valued hard work above all else.  


The three turned to face Dean expectantly. 

“He’s not, but Crowley’s got a lot of pull upstairs so.” Crowley was the complete opposite of Bobby Singer, and yet they complimented each other well. Real name Fergus Macleod, nobody was too sure where the name had come from. There were rumours that his mother was a witch, and he had bartered his soul away to a demon, or even that he was one himself. Crowley was the head of admissions, and as such, his opinions held a lot of away around campus. Dean suspected one of the main reasons Bobby kept him around was purely for the sheer fun of it, life with the aptly named man was never boring.  


“That explains it. Those two can be as irritating as each other.” Sam wasn’t Crowley’s biggest fan, he felt he was too unprofessional to hold such a revered position. Either that, or he still was bitter over the time when Crowley’s son, Gavin had scored a whole point above him in some dumb test.  


They finished their lunch without many more arguments and headed to their next classes.  


“Catch you later, bitches!” Charlie hugged them all goodbye and skipped off, eager to meet up with Dorothy after her final class.  


Try as he might, he was unable to get the lunchtime conversation out of his head. The Gabriel stealing his rightly earned prankster crown parts, of course, not what Sam had said about Castiel, obviously. He most certainly wasn’t still lying awake at two in the morning thinking about a devastatingly handsome face, tattooed flesh and kohl rimmed eyes. That would be ridiculous. Fuck, those eyes, though. Blue enough that he could scarcely believe they were real, it just wasn’t possible. They put the ocean and the sky to shame, they were sapphire pools, and all sorts of other ridiculous clichés he claimed to hate but the hidden romantic in him secretly loved. If he closed his eyes he wasn't faced with images of a dark haired boy with a nickname that just rolled off the tongue like it was meant to be there. No, he was exhausted and frustrated and most definitely thinking of ways to get one over on Gabriel. Cas, who? His overtired mind was concerned with extensive plans, pies to the face, pants pulled down around ankles while everyone else watched on as they howled with laughter. Speaking of which, he sure would love to see Cas in that state. A lot more than he wanted to see Gabriel minus his pants anyway.  


Dean groaned in frustration and rolled over to face the wall, where the neon numbers on his alarm clock could taunt him no longer. This was ridiculous. Cas would never look twice at the likes of him. They ran in completely different circles. Despite his penchant for eyeliner, torn jeans and badass, stud adorned leather jackets, Cas was a total American sweetheart destined for a life of luxury. His eyeliner was designer, his jacket spikes probably made of gold or other precious metals. He was so far out of Dean’s league it wasn't even funny. He was gorgeous, like just walked off a movie set beautiful. With those ocean eyes and that sunshine smile of his, he was practically an angel.  


There was more to him than that though, Dean wasn’t totally superficial, though his good looks certainly helped. Cas was good and kind. He was the rare type of person who would patiently guide little old ladies across the street. At the beginning of each new academic year he took the time to show the terrified freshman around. A good chunk of his extensive friends list was made up of formerly horror-struck freshman who practically worshipped their trench coated saviour. He was clever too, like Sam levels of genius clever. He was going to be some big history professor one day, or make some fascinating historical discovery that nobody but history nerds and Sam would be able to comprehend with any real level of clarity.  


And Dean was just Dean. He didn’t come from some super loaded, successful family of CEOs and fancy pants lawyers, who regularly rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous. He had never splashed about in his very own private swimming pool, or been gifted a pony for his tenth birthday, or had shaken hands with some seedy, overdressed politician harbouring some nasty skeletons in his closet. He wasn’t a troll, but he wasn’t gorgeous like any of Cas’s exes, either, with their natural tans from weeks of lazing around on exotic, golden beaches, and fluttering eyelashes. He didn't have their designer clothing, the superstar physique, or their thousands of dollars worth of movie star smiles. And while he might not have been a moron, he was miles away from being top of his class, or anything truly special.  


Sam was the only one with the real brains in the family, the one going places. Dean was going to make sure of it, even if it killed him. But he was destined for lesser things, and he'd always been content in that knowledge. As long as Sammy was able to reach for the stars, he was happy. Dean didn’t need anything else, other than his brother`s happiness. And that was the final level of separation between him and Cas. Dean was happy to settle with his lot, while he watched as those he cared for, like Sam, like Cas, took what they deserved from the world.  
In other words, Cas was an angel, and he was just Dean.  


He was still amazed the school had let him without bargaining his sorry soul away. It didn’t matter what Sammy said, the other boy probably didn’t even know that they breathed the same air. He needed to return to reality and focus on something he actually had a chance at, like beating Gabriel.  


The next morning came all too soon. His exhaustion showed on his face as he stumbled into the communal kitchen, on the hunt for the only thing that might put a bit of cheer back into his step. Coffee. Steaming hot, delicious coffee. He shoved a few slices of almost stale bread into the toaster and prepared some water to boil.  


“Morning,” a particularly dishevelled looking Balthazar greeted him through a mouthful of milky cereal. His eyes were all bloodshot, his hair standing all on end, splayed out in every direction. Across the table from him, Ruby and Meg were chattering away and poking at their pancakes, ignoring him as usual. Exactly the way he preferred it. Very little good came of those two taking an interest in his life.  


“Morning,” he replied as he opened the door to the cupboard where the mugs lived.  


Balthazar raised his chipped mug with a smirk. Whether it contained coffee or something far stronger was up for debate. “Looking good today!” he said, grin widening. “That holey monstrosity a relic from last century or is your fashion taste truly that lacking?” Vodka, Dean was definitely wagering that the contents of his asshole flatmate’s cup were alcoholic.  


“Fuck you!” Dean tugged on the ratty hem of his sweatshirt self-consciously. The blue-black material was soft and worn from age. Along with his beloved car and leather jacket, it was one of the few mementos he had of his father’s.  


John Winchester had been a difficult man to love, and an even more difficult man to call father, and their relationship hadn’t been without its strains, but Dean had loved him to the ends of the Earth and missed him more with each passing year. Even if he hadn`t been particularly supportive of his teenage son`s desire to study social work. In his mind, it was bad enough that Dean wanted to waste his time in school, let alone study such a girly degree.  


“You're a real dick, ya know that?” Of course, he didn’t mention the sweatshirt`s importance to that jerk. “And at least I’m wearing underwear.” He full body shuddered, horrifying images flooding his mind of the shockingly nude performing arts major drunkenly prancing around the kitchen singing show tunes. That had not been Balthazar’s proudest moment. Ruby and Meg had threatened to cut his dick off if they ever saw it again. That had been the first and thus far, only time Dean and the girls had ever been in agreement on anything.  


Ignoring Balthazar's utterly hilarious comeback, he reached into the cupboard to pull out his favourite mug. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!” Dean slammed the cupboard door shut with a bang, rattling the glasses and cups inside. “Who the fuck has taken my mug?” He accused, marching over to the breakfast table. Blinded by his rage, he walked right into it. “God-fucking-dammit!” he cursed as he banged his bare knee into the solid wooden leg of the table.  


Without glancing up from her phone, Ruby told him that someone had taken it, but refused to give him any further details. Like a name or room number so he could go and tell them off. Still rubbing at his battered leg, Dean scowled. Way to be helpful, Ruby. He wanted to keep pestering her some more, hoping she would relent and offer up a name, but no such luck. The blonde remained fixated on her phone screen, her pointed, red lacquered nails clicking away rapidly as she tapped out a message to some poor, dumb schmuck.  


“Oh, and, Dean,” Meg said in a saccharine voice, actually looking up at him, as a small smile twisted the corners of her painted lips upwards. “Be more careful, dumbass.” The sugary sweet façade vanished as quickly as it came. “And watch where you are walking. I’m sure as hell not patching you up because after months of living here you forgot where the table lives. Newsflash, dummy,” she paused to take a bite of her breakfast, savouring it with a smack of the lips. “It doesn’t move.”  


Dean snapped. His leg was hurting and he wanted a fucking coffee. Was that too much to ask? He certainly didn’t need Meg’s snarky attitude, today of all days. “But you are a fucking med student!”  


“Doesn’t mean I’ve gotta look after idiots who can’t watch where they’re going.” She rolled her eyes and shovelled another forkful of pancake into her mouth. “Anyway, just between us girls, what has got you so distracted, Deano? It couldn’t be sweet little Castiel now, could it?” There was a dark edge to her voice that he didn’t trust. “Now he’s a real cutie pie. A total angel, if you ask me.” Her grin widened, taunting him. Dean watched, nauseated, as the brunette slowly dragged a pale finger along her lips, licking the syrup off with an exaggerated smacking sound. “Mmm! Just delicious.” Balthazar applauded her actions. Both Meg and Ruby promptly flipped him off.  


Dean gritted his teeth. “Well, it’s a damn good job nobody is asking you. Go back to hell, Meg.” The effect of his epic comeback lessened slightly as he almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of the toaster popping out his food.  


Meg laughed at his comical, startled expression as his forgotten breakfast jumped up out of the toaster, a little crisper than he had intended. Awesome. His blackened toast was going straight in the bin. If his father was there he’d be getting an earful about wasting perfectly good food, but there was no way he was choking down burnt toast on a shitty morning like this.  


“You might want to check that before it sets off the smoke alarm.” She gestured lazily with one hand at the kitchen worktop. “I’m gonna be real pissed if I have to line up at the fire assembly point again, because some dumbass can’t figure out how to be a damn grown up and use the toaster.”  


“This day just gets better and better!” Dean picked up the ruined toast and threw it in the rubbish. With a tortured sigh, he opened the coffee tin. Seeing as Meg had chosen this shitty morning to be such a god damn delight, he was going to steal her favourite mug. See how the snarky bitch liked that. The lid opened with a muted pop to reveal the sorriest sight possible on a Monday morning. “You have got to be kidding me!” he dumped the empty tin back down on the counter and stormed out of the room, sorely tempted to say, “Fuck it all", and go back to bed. “Fucking empty! I can’t fucking believe it!”  


All three occupants of the table stared mutely at each other, watching on in horror as tornado Winchester raged on down the hall. Nobody dared to say anything until they were certain he was out of earshot, dreading the violent storm that was a coffee deprived, hungry, and pissed off, Dean Winchester. Anyone who was yet to wake up certainly would be wide awake now, and probably petrified to brave the world outside of their rooms. If the coffee mug bandit had been around to hear all that, he or she was certain to be regretting all of their poor life choices up to that point.  


Dean barged into the bathroom, still wearing his pissed off scowl as he slung his towel and toiletry bag over the hooks and adjusted the fiddly shower controls. He washed his hair roughly, too pissed off to sing as he usually would. It appeared as though someone else was more than willing to take over from him. A low, gruff voice was half singing, half speaking the lyrics to some song he had never heard of. He hated to admit it, but the guy was good. Not superstar rock god levels of good, but still pretty alright for a round of shower karaoke.  


By the time he headed back to the kitchen, just in case the coffee fairy had paid him a welcome visit, it was empty. Balthazar, being the infuriatingly lazy bastard that he was, had abandoned his half full bowl on the counter, but at least it was near the bin this time and not left festering on top of the fridge. Meg and Ruby must have returned to whatever hell dimension they originated from, or maybe they had finally decided to leave for their nine AM with Dr. Harvelle. At ten. Boy, she sure was gonna love that. Dean kind of wished he could have been there to witness their total annihilation. Professor Ellen Harvelle might not look like much, but she was the last person any sane individual wanted on their bad side.  


Scratch that, not a totally deserted room, he noticed on his way to the sink with Balthazar’s dishes. On the table sat a very familiar looking mug. Comforting looking steam rose up from it as the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his nostrils. What the hell? What kind of person stole a guy’s favourite mug and then returned it, filled to the brim with piping hot coffee? A very courteous someone, from the look of it. They had done something rarely witnessed in a college dorm and went to the trouble of digging out a coaster from fuck knew where. To Dean's amusement, he noticed the table protector was designed in the shape of a cute little bumble bee. Tucked beneath the yellow plastic, a slip of paper had been left.  
Carefully, Dean lifted the mug and took a tentative sip, sighing in surprised delight at just how good it was. Sammy should be taking notes, his coffee tasted like ass due to the lack of sugar. But this, holy shit, this was amazing. Even better than the coffee, Cassie, the smoking hot barista at the local coffee shop made. After draining the cup in a couple of gulps, he placed the reappearing mug back down, making sure to use the coaster for once, before unfolding the note. The paper was thin, with a few golden droplets staining the edges, and written in a flawless italic script that belonged to some long ago, old timey King, not a broke college student.  


_Dean,_  
_Sorry I borrowed your favourite mug without asking your permission first. I broke my own last night and forgot all about it until this morning. I couldn’t find where any of my others had been put (it’s quite possible I have drunkenly broken those as well, I’m fairly clumsy). Yours was the first one I found and I desperately needed coffee. I hope you aren’t too angry with me and accept this as a peace offering. I made it with my own coffee, I find it far more pleasant compared to the generic supermarket brand in the tin. I hope you enjoy it._  
_Cas xx_  


Cas made him coffee? No, scratch that. Cas knew his name? And what was with those little x’s at the end? Kisses? If this was a cheesy teen romcom with some shitty, pretty boy heart throb, his face would be bright red right now. But it wasn’t a shitty teen flick, Cas wasn't some pretty boy heartthrob (well, he was, but Dean would be damned before he ever admitted it) and his face was most definitely not red. A faint pinkish tint may have steadily spread across his cheeks, but only because he was just out of a hot shower. Cas had nothing to do with it. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Deep within his chest, his heart shuddered worryingly.  


He washed his mug up and left it on the side to drain and headed to Professor Mills’ class with a noticeable spring in his step. If any of his classmates noticed it, they valued their lives too much to mention it. His two hour lecture passed by in a blur, letting out a good twenty minutes earlier than scheduled. Which worked for him just fine. Jody’s kindness enabled him to beat Sam to the library for once, as his class in tort law was on the opposite end of campus, and catch Charlie on her way out of the computer labs.  


“Dean!” He had no chance of escaping. As soon as she saw him, her arms already snaking their way around his shoulders, trapping him in a bone crushing embrace. “God, that class was such a snoozefest. I thought college was supposed to test me, not teach me crap I already learnt back when I was still wearing Harry Potter training bras.”  


Dean frowned, head tilting to one side. “Do they even make…” he trailed off, shaking his head. A finger found its way to his mouth, tapping thoughtfully against his lips. He blinked. “Did you really, ya know, wear those?”  


“No!” she declared in a loud voice, clearly affronted. “Dude, it was just an example. But you know,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully, smearing off some of the chapstick she had recently applied. “I’m going to have to look that up later, fandom underwear. That'd be pretty hot.”  


“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Dean said, disbelief colouring his words. He scratched the back of his neck and readjusted the strap of his messenger bag. “If you say so.”  


“I do.” She linked her arm in his and dragged him away down the hall without another word.  


They made their down the corridor, up the stairs and to the right, to Sam’s home from home, the campus library. It was huge, a separate building in its own right, spanning across four floors. Five, if you included the archives, librarian’s offices, meeting rooms and reference only journals that were all housed on the top floor. Motivational posters decorated the beige walls, while enormous glass windows overlooked the campus grounds. On a good day, you could just about make out the lake on the far end of campus, a ten minute walk from the far nicer post grad accommodation. Today was not one of those days, however, a thick fog had enveloped the campus and the heavens kept threatening to drown anyone brave or foolish enough to venture outside. On the plus side, at least the library was quieter than usual. On a dreary day like this, the campus cafes would be doing good business, as a bunch of damp and cold college students hid out there among the sugary treats and waited for the rain to subside.  


“So, what’s new with you?” Charlie asked, taking a seat and immediately pulling her laptop out.  


Dean laughed. “What, since yesterday? Oh, not a lot. Got a new tattoo, made out with a Victoria Secret's model, and then I punched the president in his ratty hair piece. The usual.” He shrugged, rooting around in his bag. He came away with his prize a few seconds later, a large, heavy textbook. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a pretty boring person.” He opened the book to the fifth chapter while he was waiting for his computer to log him on, impatiently clicking his mouse all over the screen. “Hell, I’m not even getting any at the minute. Not since Lisa. I think Sam is getting more than I am at the moment, and he hasn’t been seeing anyone properly since Jess. You,” he waved a hand in her direction. “Are definitely getting more action than either of us. Put together.” He frowned.  


Charlie huffed out a laugh. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Any progress with Mr. Dreamy?” She asked, propping her head up on her hands and leaning over into his space.  


Dean said nothing, merely throwing her a look that said, “Drop it,” and returned his attention to his report. Sam showed a few minutes later, a pretty blonde on his arm. Jessica Moore, his ex girlfriend. When Dean had first seen them together again after the split, he had high hopes they were working things out. No such luck, both had amicably agreed that they worked better together as good friends.  


“Hey, Sammy. Jess. You still hanging around with my loser brother?” he teased. “You know you’re too good for him, right?”  


“Dean!” Sam threw his empty water bottle at him. He ducked and it missed by a mile, rolling somewhere under the table, much to Sam's irritation. Jess giggled good naturedly, ignoring their antics as she took the seat next to Charlie, who welcomed her with a brief wave, totally invested in her computer screen.  


They all worked quietly for a while, making small talk whenever the silence became too loud. Benny joined them an hour or so later, face flushed from exertion. His body was shaking, possibly from annoyance, but possibly from laughter. Four sets of curious eyes turned towards him eager to hear the story.  


“You ain’t gonna like this,” he said to Dean as he flopped down on a chair.  


Dean had a sinking feeling in his gut. “Go on then, spill.”  


“Damn trickster got into the dorms again, made himself known.”  


“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Sam said. 

“What’s the worst he could have done? Put up some porn on the walls again?”  


Benny shook his head slowly. “Worse. He did ‘em all. Go big or go home sorta deal. Well, all of the undergrad ones anyhow,” he corrected, pulling out his phone to show them the evidence of his epic pranking. “I guess even he ain’t got enough pull to allow him access to the postgrad halls.”  


“Oh Jesus.” Sam took the phone from Benny and passed it along to his brother. “Holy shit.”  


Picture after picture of hilarious, perfect chaos. Gabriel`s speciality. Kitchens turned into children’s ball pits, filled with hundreds of tiny plastic balls, a rainbow of different colours. Other flats had been transformed into the world’s largest chair storage, with entire hallways and kitchens totally blocked with ceiling high stacks of plastic garden chairs. Others had been filled to the brim with old pizza boxes, stuffed teddies and life sized celebrity cut outs. Obscene images had been pinned all over the bedroom doors, held up with enormous penis shaped stickers. The signs on the communal bathrooms had all been switched over, resulting in a lot of anger, confusion and several pissed off students. One unlucky guy was nursing a purpling eye after walking in on Jo Harvelle.  


“Shit,” Dean echoed. “Shit. Shit. Shit. This is bad.”  


Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, while Benny tactfully removed the phone from his grasp. He just allowed it to happen, defeat clear on his face. “It’s not that bad, it’s rather immature really.”  


The others all nodded quickly. Too quickly for Dean’s liking. “Yeah, you got this! Gabriel’s pranks are so been there, done that. You totally got this!” Charlie slapped him on the back.  


“Gabriel won’t know what hit him!”  


“Yeah,” Jess agreed with Sam. “You can do so much better than his childish games.”  


Benny handed the phone back with a flourish. “You got it covered, man. Now delete those photos and get to work.”  


If his family believed in him, then he was capable of almost anything. Possessed with a new found determination, Dean clenched his fists and punched the air thrice, resolving to kick Gabriel’s smug ass all the way into next week. “I got this! Fuck that arrogant dick. I’m Dean Fucking Winchester!”  


Over the days that followed, Dean barely surfaced from his room. Classes and seminars were attended and exited as quickly as possible, his work completed in record time. Including a real bitch of an assignment for professor Hanscum. Pummelling Gabriel into the ground, metaphorically of course, and wiping that ever present smirk from his face took priority above all else. If he wasn’t buried in his social work textbooks, or his countless pages of notes scribbled down in his scruffy chicken scratch, he was scouring the internet for inspiration, plotting away at the perfect end to their annual trickster prank out. Sam dropped by at least once a day to ensure that he wasn’t neglecting crucial aspects of the human existence in his desire to one up Gabriel, like food or showering. On Wednesday, he brought a bag of shopping with him, throwing Dean the bitchiest of bitch faces when be dared to complain about the contents. Fruit and vegetables. What was he, a fucking rabbit?  


He finally emerged from his room at four in the afternoon exactly three days after Gabriel’s hilarious attempts at interior decorating.  


“Where have you been recently?”  


One of the few perks of shutting himself away for a few days had been the easy avoidance of hellbitch one and two. Sadly, Meg and Ruby hadn’t been summoned back home to the fiery pit below in his absence. What a shame. What a tragic, tragic shame.  
“None of your business,” he replied, matching Ruby’s snarky tone. He strode past the two of them, sat surrounded by a mountain of notes, chips and anatomy textbooks at the kitchen table. He rifled through the plastic fruit bowl on the counter and grabbed a glass of orange juice from the fridge, grimacing dramatically at the taste. Sam, regrettably, was right though. Week’s without anything remotely green, leafy or nutritious, was liable to make you feel like heated up dog shit. It didn’t mean he had to like it though.  


“Is that an apple?” Ruby wrinkled her nose, confusion lacing her words, matching Meg's look of pure shock.  


“And it’s not smothered in chocolate or caramel either.” The brunette wiped away an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud.” They both clutched their hands over their non-existent hearts.  


Dean took another bite. “Can the crap, Meg. Sam’s such a mother hen, worrying and trying to feed me up and shit.”  


“Sam,” Ruby pursed her lips, her tongue delicately dipping out to swipe across her plump lower lip once. “Now, why couldn’t we have him in our building instead? He’s tall.”  


Dean didn’t like the way this conversation was headed. Against his better judgement, he asked, “you what?”  


She rolled her eyes. “He’s tall, dumbass. And hot. And not an annoying dick like you."  


Dean was right. He didn’t like this conversation one bit. He turned to leave, but was stopped by a figure blocking the kitchen doorway. A painfully hot, dripping wet figure, with electric blue eyes surrounded by damp lashes, dressed in charcoal skinny jeans and a sopping wet trench coat.  


“It’s raining.”  


Dean couldn’t help the amused smile that graced his lips. “Uh, yeah, Cas. Kinda got that." 

“Dean.”  


He awkwardly backed out of the way to allow Castiel enough room to squeeze past him and enter the kitchen. His sodden converse squelched as he walked, leaving a shallow river of icy rain water behind him. Once inside, he removed his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair to dry off a little. The occupants of the room watched, adoringly in Dean’s case and exasperatedly in the girls', as Castiel shook his head like a dog, showering the kitchen with freezing droplets of rain. Muttering curses under their breath, Meg and Ruby gathered their notes together and made a hasty exit, muttering to themselves as they stalked away. Good riddance.  


“Sorry,” he said, sitting down. The toothy grin aimed in Dean's direction showed he wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.  


Hesitantly, Dean sat down opposite him. “Dude, you're soaking wet.”  


He truly was. Despite his best efforts that had chased away the girls, his dark hair was plastered across his forehead and cheeks. His white button up shirt had turned translucent, clinging to him in a way Dean determined should be illegal. Averting his eyes, he coughed once. “You should go get a hot shower and change. Or at least go dry off.”  


Castiel smiled sheepishly and Dean felt his chest combust. “I would, but uh,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “I can’t find my keys,” he admitted. “I think I left them in the canteen, but I’m in no hurry to brave the elements again any time soon.”  


“Oh, man, that’s the worst luck!” He couldn’t help the laughter that erupted in his chest. Cas just looked so adorable, with his big wide eyes and grumpy expression.  


“Oh, sure,” Cas said, rolling his eyes, “make fun of the half drowned man.” He laughed too, though, a deep, throaty sound that did pleasant, nervy things to Dean's stomach.  


He glanced outside the window and sighed, already regretting his genius plan. “Hey, look, I’ll go run over to the canteen and check for your key,” he said, pulling his own out of his jeans pocket. He threw it in Cas' direction. “Take these and grab towels and whatever else you need to borrow from my room and go have a hot shower. Everything`s in the closet on the right, except for toiletries, they`re in the bag in the bedside cabinet,” he explained. “I’ll be the brave fool that swims across campus to fetch your keys.”  


“Dean, I couldn’t.” Cas shivered, his half drowned self still leaking all over the kitchen. The cleaning staff would be pleased.  


He held up a hand to silence the other man's protests. “Don’t even start. Consider this me thanking you for the coffee the other morning.” Dean got to his feet, mentally cursing his stupid, kind hearted plan. If only Cas wasn’t so goddamned attractive. Though, to be fair, he’d do the same for anyone, massive crush or not.  


Cas frowned. “But I was the one who stole your cup in the first place, I don’t think that counts.”  


“Well, technically you gave it back, so I don't think that counts as theft.” Dean shrugged, a dangerous thought coming to his mind. He couldn’t, shouldn’t let it escape, right? Right. He glanced over at Cas, beautiful as ever, even when resembling a drowned rat. This was a bad idea.  


Sensing he was leaving something unsaid, Cas pressed him, “what is it?”  


Dean shook his head. “Forget it, it’s stupid.”  
“You’re doing me a massive favour, so tell me, please?”  


Dean sighed. This was a very, very bad idea.  
“It`s just… well, I just thought, I mean, maybe if you had a free afternoon of something, uh, we could grab some coffee together or something sometime this week?” He could kick himself. Was that actually possible, to kick yourself in the ass? He`d have to attempt it later and see. Failing that, he was sure Meg or Ruby would be all too happy to come to his aid. Either way, he was a total, colossal idiot. I mean, what was he thinking? Cas would never want to go on even the most meaningless of casual coffee shop dates with him. Not even if the world suddenly flipped upside down and launched them into some wacko, parallel dimension. He had more chance of scoring with a freaking Kardashian than Castiel.  


Cas froze for a moment. Whatever it was that he had been expecting Dean to say, that clearly wasn’t it. Dean really, really wanted to kick himself. Or slap himself in the face. If the Earth could just be a doll and open up a sizeable hole and swallow him down right now, well, then that would be just fine and dandy. No such luck.  


“Look, man, I`m being an idiot. Sam said…” he trailed off with a weary sigh. “Look, just forget I ever brought it up. I`m an idiot.”  


The other man cocked his head to the side, his eyes clouding over with confusion. “I hadn`t answered yet.” He pocketed Dean`s keys and said with a smile, “but if you aren’t interested in hearing my reply, I shall simply go ahead and take my shower now. Such a shame, I do enjoy a good cup of coffee.” He unwrapped his rain-sodden coat from where it lay, dripping water down the back of the chair, and folded it up into his arms. “Enjoy the rain.” He waved and strode confidently out of the room, leaving a dumbstruck Dean Winchester in his wake.  


What the hell had just happened? Had Cas really just implied that he was considering saying yes? Or had Dean made the rookie mistake of taking Balthazar up on his offer of freshly baked brownies again and not even known it? Baked being the operative word here. There was no way Sam was right about this, and if he was, Dean was positive he would never hear the end of it.  


A sudden flash of blinding light erupted across the sky, briefly illuminating the room and regrettably reminding him of the unpleasant task at hand. Above him, the rain thudded across the rooftop, as the thunder grumbled somewhere in the distance. Damn him and his big mouth. The canteen was only a ten minute walk away, but there was an awful lot of storm standing between him and the safety of the food hall. Damn Cas for being so perfect. Resigning himself to his fate, Dean pulled his hood up and trudged downstairs, trying to conserve as much energy as possible. He was going to need every last ounce of it for his mad dash across campus. Cold and wet, that was his first impression of the storm currently tearing its way across campus. And loud, terrifyingly so. The wind howled against the buildings, angry that no matter how hard it huffed and puffed, the bricks would not succumb to its temper tantrum. Above him, the heavens exploded as lightning and thunder tore apart the afternoon sky.  


By the time he returned, Cas was a damn sight drier than he was. His hair was still damp, but his skin flushed pink from the shower. His soaked clothes discarded in with the rest of Dean`s laundry. Dean squelched his way into his bedroom, shivering despite the warmth of the building. Cas, perched on the edge of his desk, got to his feet and helped him out of his saturated hoodie. Dean was shivering too much to even feel the embarrassment staining his cheeks.  


“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of borrowing some dry clothes when I came in to get a towel. As you could see, mine were soaked through. I`ll wash and return them to you tomorrow,” Cas promised, sounding worried that he was causing Dean some terrible big inconvenience. When really, the opposite was true. Dean half wanted to thank him for walking in like a drowned rat and taking his clothes, because, damn, did he look better in them than he did. He should probably just let him keep them, there was no way he would ever be able to wear them again without thinking of how hot Cas looked in his ratty old Batman hoodie and plaid sweatpants that clung low to Cas`s hips like a god damned wet dream.  


“It`s not a problem, I told you to take whatever crap you needed. You could hardly warm up in the same soaking wet clothes you had on,” he said, kicking off his boots. Even his socks were wet through. Awesome, nothing worse than wet feet. He needed a hot shower, preferably soon, but that meant leaving Cas, and he wasn`t prepared to do that just yet. Not even for a mere ten minutes. “Here,” he said, throwing a set of keys down on the desk. “Be more careful next time,” he chastised. “Cause I sure as hell ain`t doing that again. No god damn way. Not for you, not for anyone. I don`t care how cute a guy is.” It would appear that the iciness seeping through his veins, while making him shudder violently, was also freezing the sensible part of his brain that usually stopped him from blurting out ridiculous crap. Way to go, brain.  


Cas smiled tenderly, and damn, even as violently cold as he was, his knees still threatened to give way beneath him. “Thank you, Dean. I really appreciate it.” He patted him on the shoulder, before reaching over to get something from the bed. “Here,” he said, offering up a fluffy blue bath towel. “I already put mine in your laundry bag, I thought it would be a good idea to get you one out as well for when you returned.”  


Dean returned the smile. “Thanks, Cas. I`ll just be a sec.” He accepted the towel, gathered up some fresh, dry clothes and raced down to hall to have the quickest shower of his life, half afraid that in his absence, Cas would vanish into thin air, merely a mirage, a cruel trick of his pathetic imagination.  


“I like your sweatshirt,” was the first thing Cas said when he returned. “It`s a good colour on you.”  


Not quite knowing what to do with that, Dean shrugged. “It was my dad`s,” he divulged, not sure what else to say. Exhausted, he flopped down onto the bed with a pleased groan.  


Cas nodded, and sat down by his feet.  
“You don`t gotta sit down on the floor,” Dean told him.  


“You must be close with him them?” Cas enquired, shocking Dean by shifting him over in order to sit down next to him, their thighs practically touching. He certainly hadn`t been expecting that, he had assumed Cas would have sat back down at his desk, but clearly, his surprise guest had other ideas. Definitely a mirage.  


“Your dad, I mean,” Cas clarified. “I think it`s sweet that you wear it. Mine isn’t really what you would call a big sharer.”  


Oh boy. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, we weren`t your picture perfect, all American family or whatever, but I looked up to him a lot. Even when maybe I shouldn’t have.” He paused, debating about whether or not to continue. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t. If this had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have. He loathed talking about his dad with anyone, even Sam.. Especially Sam sometimes. “I miss him a lot. He died four years ago. Car crash.”  


Castiel`s entire face dropped. “I`m so sorry, I wouldn’t have mentioned it had I known.”  


Dean waved it off. “It`s fine. I don’t really like talking about it, brings it all back, you know?.”  


They sat in silence for a few minutes. Surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt familiar. Peaceful.

“I`m not very close with my family. Apart from Gabriel, they`re all very snobbish. They have very strict ideas of what I should do with my life, and let’s just say that they don`t quite mesh with my own.”  


Dean smiled. “Now that I can understand. If my old man was still around, there’s no way in hell I`d be here, that`s for sure. He thought college was a waste of time for the likes of us. And I certainly wouldn’t be studying such a girly degree if he had any say in it.”  


“Social work isn`t girly.”  


Dean`s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. Cas truly had taken him by surprise.  
“How do you know what I’m studying?”  


Cas looked rather sheepish. “Really, Dean. We`ve been flatmates since the beginning of the year, of course I know what you're majoring in. You shouldn`t let what your dad, or anyone else for that matter, says stop you from living your life the way you want. It`s your life, not theirs. At the end of the day, you`re the one who has to live it, not them.”  


Dean most certainly wasn’t getting all misty eyed over Cas`s little speech. “Thanks,” he choked out, his lips feeling heavy all of a sudden.  


“Don’t mention it, it’s hardly something to thank me for.”  


“Hey,” he started, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “How come I never saw you around school back at home? I knew Gabriel, obviously. Everybody knew the trickster. Never saw you about though.” A silent “I would have noticed,” hung in the air between them.  


“That’s because I went to some fancy boy’s school.”  


“Sounds nice, I guess?” He was at a loss what to say. That life was world’s away from his own.  


He scoffed. “It really wasn’t. Gabriel kept getting kicked out of the top boarding schools, so eventually his father grew sick of it and dumped him in the first place that would take him. I’m sorry,” he made a face, “I expect that sounded rather snobbish.”  


Dean grinned. “Only a lot. At least you’re aware of it,” he teased.  


They continued talking for a while, exchanging stories about their school days, or their childhood. Dean told Cas about what growing up with Sam was like, despite being the youngest of seven, he spent very little time with his siblings. They chattered away happily oblivious to the darkening of the sky outside, or the ticking of the clock hands. Cas knew that he should leave now that he had his key back, but it was an easy decision to decide against. Instead he suggested they watch a movie. So Dean pulled out his rather beat up looking laptop and opened up Netflix, which turned into a half hour long debate of, “no, you choose,” and, “yeah, but you`re the guest, Cas.” Eventually, after a lengthy, spirited discussion, that may or may not have ended in brief, but deadly, tickle fight, they settled on some cheap, B rated horror flick.  


“Fuck, this is terrible!” Dean complained after gallons of the fakest looking blood he had ever seen spurted from one guy`s neck, staining half the room in a thick coating of what looked like strawberry syrup. “Are you seeing this?”  


Cas was not seeing this. It would appear that he wasn’t finding the poor special effects as hilarious as Dean. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the skin around his knuckles white with fear. His body was tense as he cowered, eyes closed, as he used Dean's shoulder to hide behind. His heart did some thumpy little dance as he reached out and closed the laptop, pushing it to the side.  


“Why didn’t you tell me you don’t like scary movies? I wouldn’t have laughed or nothing.” He considered. “Well, maybe a little, but I wouldn’t have made you watch it.”  


Feeling a million times safer now that the monsters had been banished, Cas straightened up and scooted away from Dean’s shoulder. It had done a marvellous job at protecting him from the demons and ghouls on the screen. He still probably wasn’t getting much sleep tonight though. In a perfect world, Dean would offer to let him stay, but he doubted Dean would have the nerve to ask him, even if the thought did cross his mind. A tragedy really, Dean was so good at protecting him.  


“Well, we weren’t getting anywhere with finding something else to watch, and you seemed excited about it, so I didn’t see the harm.” Castiel shuddered. Instinctively, Dean pulled him back over. “I hadn’t been expecting it to be so gruesome.” 

“You still should have said something. We could have done something else. Like listened to music or...or just talked or something.” God, he sure was grateful Cas didn’t have the uncanny ability to read his mind in the way Sammy did. That would be awkward.  


“Or something?” His lip quirked. “Do tell.”  


Was Dean imagining it or was Cas flirting with him? Before he could mention it, the other man was getting to his feet.  


“Thank you, Dean. For everything.” His smile lit up the room brighter than the earlier flashes of lightning had. “I suppose I had best be going now, it’s getting late.”  


As if in agreement, Dean yawned widely. “Oh, come on, it’s only half nine. We could watch another movie?” he teased. “One with lots of blood and guts?”  


Cas paled. “I think I’m good, really.”  


Dean frowned. He really, really didn’t want Cas to go. Quick, anything say something. Cas picked up the key Dean had retrieved earlier, and headed for the door. Say something or he’s going to leave! “You could tell me about Gabriel? It looked like he really pissed you off in the canteen last week, maybe you wanna tell me about what he's planning for his final prank?”  


Cas frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “Oh, that’s right! You and him are in some longstanding prankster battle.” He pursed his lips. “I suppose I could drop a few little hints, he really did piss me off the other day.”  


“Don’t be shy, share with the group.”  


Cas spoke for ages, waving his hands about animatedly as he explained the ins and outs of his cousin's plans. Hidden cameras, shaving cream, pie, Gabriel was sticking with some classics for his final call.  


“Man, I really thought I had it. I gotta up my game if I’m gonna stand any chance of beating him now.”  


“I’m sure you will,” he assured him, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. Dean’s answering smile made his heart melt and his breath catch in his throat. And alright, so Dean definitely wasn’t imagining that.  


“Hey, listen, Cas,” Dean begun, wiping his hands on the leg of his sweatpants. When had it gotten so damn hot in here? “Tell me if I’m being stupid or interpreting something the wrong way but, uh, are you, I mean, do you still want to go get that coffee sometime?” a nervous sound escaped his lips, halfway between a strangled sort of laugh and a gulp. “I mean, if you don’t, it’s cool. Just let me know.” He could shoot himself.  


“Dean,” Cas thankfully put an end to his ridiculous babbling. Dean could kiss him. “I would like that a lot.”  


Dean perked up. “Really?”  


He nodded, a smile playing with the corners of his lips. “I’m free tomorrow after about five.”  


If Dean was the romantic sort who believed in true love and all that mushy stuff like Sam, he’d probably be skipping about and singing love songs at the top of his lungs about now. Instead, he blurted out, “can I kiss you?”  
His eyes widened, startled.  


“Forget it.” Dean cursed his big, fat mouth to hell and back.  


“Dean?” Cas took a step towards him, and another, until their chests would brush together every time they breathed out. Which was fine, considering Dean had forgotten how to breathe anyway. “Goodnight.” He brushed their lips together for the sweetest of moments, a gentle, chaste touch that sent sparks tingling up and down his spine. The memory of it lingered on Dean's lips hours after Cas had ceased kissing him.  


“G-goodnight.” His voice shook.  


Cas closed the door behind him with a muted click, and Dean's empty stomach chose that magical moment to cheapen. “God-fucking-dammit!” he cursed his growling stomach and dragged his lovesick ass to the kitchen.  
A shattered looking Meg was leaving just as he headed in, a small collection of candy and a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Her hair was scraped up into a messy knot atop her head, loose waves falling forwards to frame her face.  


“Don’t burn the building down, asshole,” she yawned softly, disappearing down the hall.  
Dean hummed to himself as he raided the cupboards, throwing a few slices of bread in to toast while he tucked into a bag of chips someone had left out. Heeding Meg’s warning, he kept a closer watch on his food than the last time, eyeing the smoke detector on the ceiling warily.  


“That’s it,” he gasped, jumping as the toaster popped up, “that’s the prank!”  


The kitchen door swung open. “What's the prank?” Cas mumbled through a yawn, stumbling into the room.  


It appeared as though his stomach had the same idea as Dean's, food first and sleep later. Still dressed in his borrowed outfit from earlier, he had added a pair of fluffy slippers shaped like cats and a Star Trek dressing gown to complete the look. Seeing Dean stood there in the centre of the kitchen stuffing his face, he blinked twice, before his sleepy frown erupted into the goofiest grin Dean had seen since that time he picked Sam up from his work experience at the dog shelter. Good thing that was back when dad was still around, otherwise there was a good chance he would have been the grudging co-owner of an oversized ball of fluff and drool.  


“Heya, Cas.”  


“Hello again, Dean.”  


“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” he teased, shocking himself with his sudden burst of confidence. It was sure to vanish again and any moment, like the second Cas turned the full force of those magnificent eyes of his on him.  


Chuckling, Cas scooted past him and helped himself to a slice of toast. “Something like that,” he said through a mouthful of golden bread, spraying crumbs down himself. He dusted himself down with a careless swipe of the hand. “I am curious though,” he began, subtly angling his lips towards him.  


Dean nodded, pink tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, mirroring him. “What?” he treated Cas to a faceful of crumbs when he replied. 

“Shit, sorry!”  


He laughed again. “It sounded like you were in the midst of your eureka moment when I walked in. Care to enlighten me?”  


He shook his head, mouth curved into a determined smile. “You'll have to wait, just like everyone else. Let’s just say you’re looking at this year’s trickster Prince.”  


“So bow down, loyal subjects,” he teased, relishing the faint dusting of pink that coloured Deans cheeks. “Sure you dont want to tell me?” He stroked a hand down his arm, fingers dancing around the delicate crease of his elbow.  


“S-sure,” Dean managed to choke out, picking up the empty plate as a distraction.  


Cas released him with a deep sigh and followed him over to the sink. “Hmmph.” He slumped over on the worktop, resting his head on his elbow as he sulked. “And there I was, thinking I was special.” Straightening up suddenly, he leaned in, until their faces were a whisper away, noses brushing. “Was I wrong?” 

Dean felt a physical twinge in his chest as he watched as Cas's excited, cheerful manner wilted away, replaced by drooping eyes, damp lashes and a downturned mouth.  


“Cas, don’t be stupid. I-"  


His lower lip quivered, as though he was about to burst into tears. Dean felt his stomach lurch and his throat tighten. 

“Ha! I can’t believe you fell for that!” He was crying, through fits of giggles that bubbled up from deep within his heaving chest.  


“You dick!” He grabbed the nearest item from the counter, a raggedy old dish cloth, and threw it in the laughing boy's face. Unable to believe Dean could be so childish, he froze for a moment, the damp cloth clinging to his face. After a few seconds the shock wore off and he shook his head, freeing himself from the soapy weapon. It dropped to the floor with a soft splat. Not above retaliating, he retrieved it from the floor, hellbent on dishing out his revenge .  


“Hey, come on, man. You don’t want to do this.” Dean backed away, eyeing Cas and the cloth warily.  


“Oh come on, you can dish it out but can’t take it.” He pouted, edging steadily closer to his retreating friend. Dean ran one way as he bolted for the door, but Cas was faster. The rag dripped down his face before falling to the ground, a trail of soapy bubbles dripping from his cheeks. Before he could return the favour, Cas snatched it from Dean’s hands and placed it out of reach. 

“That’s enough of that. Now, if you refuse to tell me your devious plan, I’m off to bed.”  


Two days later and it was time to set his fantastic plan into motion. All of his planning, his hard work, his bribes. Soon he would see if it had all been worth it.  


“You're insane,” were then first words out of his brother’s mouth when he walked through the door at seven thirty that evening. “And I can’t believe you had a date with Cas and are refusing to tell me about it.” He sulked.  


“Yeah, yeah. Die mad about it.” He still could hardly believe it happened himself. He felt that if he spoke about it, he would wake up and realise it had only been a dream after all. 

Charlie, Benny and Jess followed, armed with sugary snacks. They were in for a long night. With the five of them in there, the small room was starting to feel more than a little cramped. It would hopefully all be worth it in a few short hours, though. They gorged themselves on the junk they had brought and went over the finer details one last time. Charlie, naturally, was tech support, and the first lookout, charged with ensuring everything went off at exactly the right moment. When the time was right, Jess was going to race ahead to the flat and let them in, then head to the kitchen while Dean set to work. Benny was second lookout and, if all went well, would be helping him out with stage two of the plan. Dean certainly didn’t need anyone stumbling upon and foiling his scheme. Unlucky for him, Sam had been lumbered with the unpleasant task of distracting Gabriel. Poor fucker, he really had drawn the short end of the stick, but he didn’t seem too bothered, judging by his reassuring smile and lack of arguing. How he was going to get Gabriel into the right place at the exact right time, Dean didn’t know, and an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he didn’t want to either. Charlie couldn't have been right, could she? He shook it off, not wanting to go there. Not tonight and not ever.  
He checked his phone.

“Alright, everyone know what they gotta do?”  


They all nodded, affirmative.  


“Then let’s do this.”  


They raced to their stations with a spring in their step. “Game on, asshole."  


The knock on the door came as quite a surprise. He was dressed in nothing more than his crimson silk boxer shorts and matching dressing gown. It gaped open over his chest obscenely, knotted loosely at the waist, daring to fall open at the slightest of touch. More than a little ostentatious, but that was Gabriel all over. It wasn't quite late enough to be drinking, the hour hand on his clock stuck somewhere between late evening and the beginning of the night, but he had a bottle on the desk and a colourful, plastic wine goblet in hand anyway. Whoever or whatever at the door wasn’t going away, which was rather rude, as Gabriel had fully intended to ignore them. With a sigh and a grumble, he sauntered over to the door, not bothering to make himself more presentable. He looked damn fine and whoever was at the door should feel exceptionally lucky.  


“Well, hello,” he purred, as the door opened to reveal a flushed Sam Winchester.  


He was breathing heavily, as though he had ran across campus, or perhaps he was nervous. His chest was heaving rapidly and his eyes were wide, the dim glow escaping from the dorm room playing tricks on Gabriel’s eyesight, making it appear as though they were sparkling. Sam froze when he saw the state Gabriel was in, eyes lingering a little longer than necessary on the generous patch of smooth skin the flimsy gown offered up for easy viewing.  


"Can I come in?” He said with a shy smile, peering up nervously from under a curtain of soft, dark hair. He looked adorable and so out of place standing there in Gabriel's doorway, as though he was a little lost puppy dog that had wandered off somewhere it shouldn’t have and not an overgrown man. “Uh, if it’s not too much trouble. Please?” He blinked, awkwardly shuffling his feet as he fiddled with a stray lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. He chewed on his lower lip nervously as he waited, heart hammering away inside his chest like it wanted free.  


It was inevitable, really.

And Gabriel knew, of course. You couldn’t kid the trickster, couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes.  


He grinned. A flirty grin, one that was all sugar and feigned confidence. “Of course. I’ve seen how this movie goes, you know, baby.” Gabriel joked, swinging the cord of his gown between two fingers.  


Sam snorted. “Right. Of course you have.”  


Without another word, he grabbed hold of that ridiculous flannel shirt, using the cheap material to drag him forwards and propel him into the room, slamming the door shut behind them. If his next door neighbours heard, they didn’t care, sadly too accustomed to an array of slamming and banging sounds coming from his room. Gabriel used Sam's moment of surprise to latch onto his neck, nipping and sucking at it eagerly. Sam may have had ulterior motives for being here with him tonight, but that didn't mean Gabriel couldn’t have a little fun with him while it lasted. Besides, he smirked at the state the other man was in already, panting like a marathon runner and grasping hold of him with desperate hands, he certainly wasn’t hearing any complaints, nor, he thought smugly, was he likely to. Sam gasped loudly, whatever he had been about to say catching in his throat, throwing his head back as Gabriel’s fingertips trailed down the arch of his neck and down his chest.  


“You alright there, sweetie? You seem a bit, hot and bothered.” Gabriel snickered against the hollow of his throat, pressing teasing kisses along the skin, sending trickles of excitement and something far stronger down Sam's spine.  


“Shut up, asshole,” Sam snapped, but the adoring look in his eyes gave him away, even as he roughly pushed him backwards onto the bed, sending a half eaten box of chocolates flying to the floor.  


“I’m the asshole? Those aren’t cheap, you know!” He wasn’t complaining for long.  


“You know, don’t you?” Sam clasped his hands around the back of Gabriel's head and tugged him away from his neck, forcing their lips together. All the while their little, whatever the hell it was they had together, had been going on, all the texts, the looks, the teasing comments, he'd never dared to allow himself to imagine this moment. He tried to use this time now, this desperate kiss to show Gabriel just that. He kissed him for minutes, hours, hard and needy and fast, only pulling away to breathe, or to trail his lips across his face, his neck, his ear, anywhere he could reach.  


“It takes a lot to fool me.” He bit harshly into the flesh where neck merged into broad shoulder. “Points for trying, though. I take it this was your idea and not Dean's? Cause, uh, no offence, but that’d be kinda weird.” His tongue traced the path mapped by his lips and teeth, gently soothing the flushed skin.  


Sam huffed out a chuckle, as he relaxed against his smaller frame. “Yeah, no, uh. This part was totally my idea.”  


Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “This part?”  


Sam sighed. “Just, consider it an apology for later. Deans my brother, and you know I like you, but-"  


“He’s your brother,” Gabriel finished matter-of-factly, backing off ever so slightly so they were no longer pressed so tightly against each other.  


“Don’t hate me too much for it?” He asked softly, eyes wide, lips forming a tender smile, face the perfect example of innocence.  


“Oh come on! Not the puppy dog eyes!”  


Sam's look intensified.  


“Fine! Fine,” he resigned, throwing his hands up. “But you owe me big time, Winchester.” He smiled deviously. “And don’t think I won’t collect.”  


Sam's stomach flipped as he gulped, a thousand and one possible ideas racing through his mind, each one more terrifying and exciting than the next. “Got it.”  


Outside the door room, a few metres down the hall, Charlie lay in wait, camera ready to capture the evening’s events. A short distance away, half hidden behind a door, Dean finished putting the finishing touches to the next stage of the plan and gave Charlie the signal. She nodded, her loose ponytail bobbing as she did so. He pulled out his phone, double checked with Jess that everything was all go and pressed send on the pretyped message. No going back now.  
Inside, Sam’s felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket.  


Gabriel cocked his head. “Time?”  


He nodded, forcing out a smile. “Yeah.”  


“I won’t hold it against you.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Dean, on the other hand, he’s a giant bag of dicks.”  


“Funny, he thinks the same thing about you.” 

Grudgingly, he got to his feet.  


Gabriel took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever hellish fate awaited him outside that door. “Lets get this shit over with. Unless you’ve changed your mind and would rather stay here with me?” He flashed Sam a hopeful look. “I’m sure I could think of something to occupy you with.” His face turned impish, lips curling upwards deviously as peppered tiny , barely there kisses up his left arm.  


“Can’t, sorry. You have no idea how sorry.” His voice was pained, as though it caused him a great deal of suffering to refuse the offer. “There’ll be no living with him if I chicken out of his stupid plan.”  


“Fine, but remember, you so owe me.”  


“I’m counting on it.”  


Gabriel’s next words were partially drowned out by the ear piercing wail of the smoke alarm. He glanced over at Sam knowingly, quirking an eyebrow. “Really, that’s his big trick to get me out? The smoke alarm. Really? You could of just asked me out for a drink, but noooo, that’d be too nice!”  


Sam propelled Gabriel out of them room, ignoring his complaints about not even being allowed to grab a coat or some proper shoes, because, “it could be a real fire, Gabriel.” Even though they both knew it was just Dean Asshole Winchester up to his usual tricks. He glared at no one in particular, tugging bitterly at the edges of his dressing gown. As stylish as his robe and slippers were, and as glad as he was that Sam clearly appreciated the way it gaped open, even he didn’t have enough self confidence to want to show it off to the rest of the student body.  


Gabriel wasn’t sure if he should be surprised or not that Dean was nowhere to be seen outside of the room. Sam stopped in font of the first door they came to, gesturing for Gabriel to go first. He sighed. “Really? Tell your brother, he sucks!” he screamed the last part at the top of his lungs, opening the door hesitantly. Behind them, a young woman cursed at them to hurry them along. With yet another, miserable sigh, Gabriel strode through the door with his head held high.  
A massive bucket tumbled down on top of him, covering him with a sticky, goo like substance. Just wonderful. That was this robe totally ruined, and he had only just showered minutes before Sam knocked on his door. He flicked out his tongue. Great. Syrup. He smelt like a fucking candy factory, or a dentist’s worst nightmare. As much as he liked sweets, even his sweet tooth wasn't prominent enough to make this an enjoyable experience. “Ha ha. Very funny. The old bucket trick. How original. It hurts to laugh. What’s next?” he turned to Sam, dripping syrup everywhere. “Fucking feathers?”  


Sam averted his eyes, a sheepish grin appearing on his lips.  


“I hate you. All of you.” He addressed his flatmates in a scathing tone, making a mental note to trip those videoing the aftermath of his humiliation as they went down the stairs.  


He squelched his way down the hallway, leaving a mess of sticky footprints behind him. The next bucket came as even less of a surprise, he had, after all, predicted it. The multi-coloured crafting feathers rained down softly, sticking to the disgusting layer of syrup coating his skin. What he wouldn’t do to have a bottle or ten of wine right about now. After this crap, he deserved it. Angrily, he flicked at a particularly irritating feather glued to his shoulder, desperately trying and failing to remove it. It was pink and itchy and he hated it. And he hated Dean Winchester. Beside him, a safe enough distance away from the bastard door trap, Sam was full on belly laughing at how ridiculous he must look. His feelings for him were touch and go now, too. It would take Sam some serious grovelling to get him to even consider thinking about forgiving him after his small role in this undeserved torture. Or some really good sex.  


“Is that glitter?”  


Sam nodded wordlessly and led him down the stairs and out of the apartment into a crowd of confused, grumbling students. “Charlie’s idea to mix it in with the feathers. Apparently it’s the herpes of the craft world.”  


“What a bitch!” He poked and prodded at the sparkling feathers miserably, groaning in defeat when they refused to budge.  


Everywhere he could see there were people stumbling out of the neighbouring buildings in a fog of sleepiness and confusion. It would appear Dean wasn’t the only student fucking about with smoke alarms at this time of night. Either that, or everyone just really sucked at cooking. Some were dressed like him, but most had the common sense to at least throw a hoodie on over their night clothes. There were dozens of them, and it only worsened as they all followed the dreary crowds of young adults as they staggered towards the fire assembly point in the staff car park. It was dark out and cold, the wind icy as it tore right through him, making him almost grateful for the extra layers of feathers he was wearing. Security had finally appeared and were trying to herd the students into some sort of order. They did nothing to stop the people taking pictures though. People Gabriel had only ever seen in passing before were giggling and snapping pictures, or making rude comments. One girl, a dangerous looking blonde Sam reluctantly identified as Ruby even wolf whistled.  


“Rough night?”  


“Two words,” he hissed, holding a hand up. “Dean Winchester.” He counted them off on his trembling fingers.  


The girl, Ruby nodded in understanding. “Got you.” She sounded almost as though she felt a little sorry for him, not that it stopped her from snapping a few photos to plaster all over the college website and social media pages the next day. He couldn’t really blame her, he’d have only been too eager to do the same if the shoe had been on the other foot.  


“I fucking hate people,” Gabriel snapped as they lined up with everyone else, flipping off and lunging at anyone who dared to get too close. “At least it’s over.” A terrible thought crossed his mind. “It is over, right?” he added, not liking the way Sam refused to answer. “Oh come on!”  


Inside the halls of residence, the next stage of the plan was underway. “Hurry up, Benny!” Dean hissed over his shoulder as he fumbled with the lock. “Gabriel could be back any minute.” He did a mental whoop for joy as the stubborn door finally gave way, granting them access into Gabriel’s den of iniquity with a load groan.  


“Gabriel’s the least of our worries.” Charlie spooked them all, appearing from nowhere. In her hands she carried a large pile of print outs, and an even larger pack of sticky tape. “If they decide to do a name call and realise we aren’t there, we're screwed. If they realise that tonight’s unexpected fire drill wasn’t the result of every undergrad flat deciding to throw a midnight feast, we're screwed,” she said as she begun to tack the photos up on the door and walls.  


“It won’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise it all adds up to Dean Winchester and friends,” Benny summed up for her, grunting as he helped Dean lift the bed up.  


“That’s why we asked Jess and a few others to keep an ear out and keep us in the loop. We ain’t stupid.”  


Charlie hummed like she disagreed, and got back to work.  


“Less yapping and more working!” Dean groaned, as they dropped the bed back down.  


They worked quickly and as quietly as they could, before moving on to the hallway. Dean snapped a few photos to remember his epic masterpiece and they made a hasty exit from the trashed room. They raced out of the empty apartment building, noting how eerie it was missing the usual bustle of hungover, overworked students.  


“I keep expecting some creepy monster to leap out and grab me.”  


They all laughed as Charlie almost skidded on the stairs, pulling her back to safety with ease. “Be careful,” Benny warned, showing off his teeth. “Don’t want the ghoulies to get you.”  


“Ha, very funny." She flipped him off. “God, it’s freezing out here!” She whined, tugging her denim jacket tighter around her.  


They slipped through the crowds easily, just in time to hear their names called by a dejected looking man.  


“Here.” They waved, as though they had been there all along.  


A few metres away, a feather coated trickster glowered at them. Dean waved jovially, just to piss him off further, and turned away. Shortly after, they were all given the all clear to return to their dorms, but not before a stern talking to from a distrungled Mr. Singer.  


“What’s he doing here?” Charlie whispered, edging closer to Dean.  


He leaned in, trying to move his lips as little as possible as he whispered in her ear, “I hear he lives right next to campus, doesn’t trust us kids not to burn the place down or something."  


“Case in point.” Benny gestured at the crowds of students evicted from their dorms for the night.  


“Tampering with the smoke alarm systems is an offence.” Bobby sounded disappointed, a rougher edge to his voice than usual. “I’m sure there is someone stood in front of me right now who thinks he's very clever, but he's not.” His eyes scanned the crowd, passing over Dean and Gabriel slowly. “You’re lucky nobody got hurt, now scram. Back to your rooms. I don’t wanna see another one of ya till Monday morning.” He marched away, the crowds scrambling to part quickly enough for him. “Rotten kids,” he muttered huffily.  


“Oh, come now, darling.” An all too familiar voice called from behind him. A dark haired man emerged, dressed far too smartly for this time of night. “The real offence,” Crowley smiled, pausing to sniff the air, “is the simply atrocious cooking skills of our delightful students.” He pulled a face of utter and complete disgust and walked away, but not before flashing a knowing smile in Dean’s direction as he passed. “Goodnight, boys.”  


Dean and his friends all shared marching looks of shock. “What the hell was that about?”  


“He knows. Crowley knows.” Charlie cursed softly. “I seriously regret my decision to befriend you now. Just so you know.” She smiled sweetly at him.  


“Bobby too, I bet.”  


A short distance away, Gabriel watched as the staff left and the crowds began to thin as the exhausted students sluggishly retreated back to their rooms, now that the excitement was over. He was torn. Should he storm over there and give Dean a well deserved thumping, or give in to his fearful desire to see what hell had been committed in his dorm room? Noticing he was being watched, Dean winked in his direction, taunting him further. He and his friends were loitering by the entrance, doubled over in laughter. Gabriel made a beeline for the cackling boy.  


“Have a nice night?” Dean barely managed to get out in between fits of laughter. “You look different, do something with your hair?” He flicked a strand, his fingertips coming away stained.  


Gabriel could kill him. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that even he couldn’t make a traffic cone orange jumpsuit work. He glanced over to his side. Well, that and the fact that Sam was unlikely to forgive him for offing his brother, even if said brother was a complete prick.  


“I really fucking hate you.” He scowled.  


“Feelings mutual,” he said, leaning down so that they were eye level. “Enjoy your new room, dick.”  


Gabriel tore up the stairs, elbowing his dawdling flatmates out of the way, leaving a trial of glittery, syrupy feathers in his wake. Tacked up haphazardly along the walls were images of himself, covered head to toe in an icky, gloopy mix of syrup and feathers. He ripped them from the walls, scrunching them into wads of torn paper before anyone else had the chance to see the evidence of his utter humiliation. He scrambled for his key, throwing the door open with such force he wouldn’t be surprised if he got lumbered with a costly repair bill sometime in the next week. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make his brain take in the full monstrosity of what he was seeing.  


“Damn you, Winchester. Damn you to hell.”  


More photographs covered every spare inch of wall, he had to give them points for getting so many copies printed out so quickly. They were high quality too, perfectly showcasing his look of horrified fury as the giant tubs of crap fell towards him. His bed had been wrapped top to bottom in layer upon layer of bubble wrap, while his desk and chair had been given a similar treatment, with packs of colourful post it notes. Hasty messages had been written across them, in Dean's familiar, untidy scrawl. Curious, Gabriel tugged a green one free, holding it up to his face.  


_Gabriel, you asshat._  


Wow, how eloquent.  


He threw it straight in the bin, leaving the countless others where they were for now. It couldn’t stay like that forever, but for now a shower was in order. Huffing, he tugged at a sticky strand of knotted hair, cringing at the sight. Maybe several showers. His phone bleeped.  


_Sorry about everything. If you can find it in yourself to forgive me, if like to take you to lunch sometime._  


He typed back, his screen now covered in glittery, syrupy droplets of gunk.  


_That new bakery in town. Sunday. Noon._

He deliberated. And kick your brother in the balls for me.

Dean was just settling down to sleep, a contented grin still on his face, when the door went. Ignoring it, he rolled over, pretending he was already asleep. Whoever it was, they would eventually take the hint. A worrying thought crossed his mind. What if it was Gabriel? He wouldn’t take the hint, he was more likely to kick the door down than walk away in defeat. And that was on a good night, not one where he had just been epically pranked and humiliated. And pissed off to the extreme. Dean gulped as he rolled out of bed, grabbing the bedside lamp as he crept towards the door.  


“Whose there?”  


A deep, throaty chuckle reached his ears. He relaxed instantly, unlocking the door. “Cas. What are you doing here? “ He awkwardly dumped the lamp on the floor, feeling incredibly foolish as his ears heated up in embarrassment. “I mean, it’s late,” he said, backing up to make room for him to come inside. “Not that it’s not good to see you.”  


Cas strode across the small dorm with confidence, sitting down on the bed as though he had been doing so for years. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I can leave.” He didn’t sound very sorry at all, nor did he make any effort to move either.  


Dean shook his head, not quite sure what was going on. Cas pulled a phone from his coat pocket and turned it to show Dean an image of a pissed off Gabriel, coated head to toe in glitter, feathers and gloop.  


“Are you mad?” He asked, it suddenly occurring to him that he had perhaps taken things a step too far.  


“Gabriel is,” Cas answered, shrugging off his coat. He let it fall to the ground carelessly. “There’s no telling what he might do. I thought it best if I kept an eye in you, just in case.” He kicked off his converse, tucking them away in the corner.  


“Uh-huh.” Dean nodded, watching helplessly as Cas made himself comfortable in his bed, as though he had already decided he belonged there. The thought made his chest ache and his heart skip a beat. “Cas, what are you really doing?” he asked, noting he was wearing the borrowed short from the other day.  


He tilted his head. “Why, isn’t it obvious? Waiting for you to kiss me, of course.”  


So he did. Dean closed the painful gap between them, leaning down and crushing their lips together fiercely, his tiredness long forgotten. Letting out a pleased sound, Cas wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer, smiling into the kiss. He tasted of happiness and expensive coffee. “You’re learning,” he breathed against his lips, stroking a hand through his hair. “I must warn you though,” he said, pressing a finger against Dean’s lips, stopping him. “Try and prank me and it will be the last thing you ever do.”  


Dean grinned, remembering their scuffle in their kitchen a few nights ago. He believed that. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Cas.”  


Sensing what he was thinking, he kissed him again. And again. Dean tasted the desperation in his lips, felt it in his touch. They woke the next morning in each other's arms, a tangled heap of limbs and blankets. Dean had never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! I was inspired to write something quick after spnuk, but this took on a life of its own. I've never actually played a prank on anyone, so just pretend that they are actually somewhat funny. 
> 
> Have a great day! X


End file.
